


Words Unspoken

by Dragonflies_and_Katydids



Series: Off Label [11]
Category: Dragon Age - All Media Types, Dragon Age: Origins
Genre: Declarations Of Love, Fluff, M/M, declarations of love as only zevran would do it
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-07-31
Updated: 2017-07-31
Packaged: 2018-12-09 08:02:29
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,017
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11664978
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Dragonflies_and_Katydids/pseuds/Dragonflies_and_Katydids
Summary: For an anon on tumblr who wanted post-coronation fluff for these two. I hope this fills the need!





	Words Unspoken

It takes Alistair six months to notice.

In his defense, his first six months as king of Ferelden are busy, much the way the fight with the archdemon was a bit daunting. He hardly knows what sleep is, and when he does see his bedroom before the small hours of the morning, his attention is entirely on Zevran.

So it's six months before he notices that the small shelf by the window holds more than just Mahariel's gifts, and it might have taken longer if the sun hadn't reflected off something at just the right angle to catch his eye. He's rarely in his rooms at this time of day, and never in the bedroom. With no reason to examine the shelf's contents, he might very well have gone a year or more without realizing there was something worth looking at.

Curious to see what it is that glints at him from the shelf, he steps closer, squinting a little against the sunlight. The statues and runestones are exactly where he put them, in a shallow arc around his mother's amulet, but something he doesn't recognize is looped around the amulet's chain. Not until he picks it up does he realize it's an earring, and even then, he frowns in puzzlement. It's clearly expensive, and far more suited to a king's bedroom than most of the statues around it, except that Alistair has never seen it before in his life.

When he tries to ask Zevran about it later, Zevran waves it off with a laugh. "I saw it somewhere once, but you can hardly expect me to remember every place I have been."

Alistair doesn't need a year's experience with Zevran to recognize the lie for what it is. He also doesn't need that experience to recognize the kiss Zevran gives him as a distraction.

Still, it's a very good kiss, and it's been a long day already, with more meetings to come, and Alistair isn't sure he's prepared to push right now. The things Zevran doesn't want to talk about are not the kinds of things Alistair wants running through his head while he's trying to pay attention to arls and banns droning on about taxes. So he lets himself be distracted, lets Zevran tumble them into bed and tease him mercilessly for long enough that he's nearly late to his afternoon council meeting.

He half forgets about the earring for the rest of the day, but when he comes back to his bedroom that night, he pauses by the shelf without really meaning to. He's nearly asleep on his feet, and the bed is so close he can practically feel the blankets settling over him. It's late enough that Zevran is already in bed, though Alistair knows he's awake, would have been awake the instant the suite's door opened. Alistair could be in bed with him, and yet, here he is, standing naked by the window and staring at something he can barely see in the moonlight.

It might be too small to see, but his fingers find it easily, and he holds it up again. Without the sunlight behind it, he can't make out any details, can only feel the curve of the metal warming against his skin.

Then he almost drops it when Zevran says at his elbow, "A token from the past, nothing more."

"I hate it when you do that," Alistair mutters, far more awake than he was a moment ago.

Zevran grins at him, unrepentant. "You always seemed to enjoy my little surprises before."

"Not that kind of surprise," Alistair says. Before Zevran can distract him--again--he drags the conversation back to the earring between his fingers. "A token of what?"

"A successful job," Zevran says with a shrug, as if it's unimportant.

Alistair still isn't fooled, and now he's just tired enough for curiosity to win over the fear of whatever new nightmares this conversation might give him. "You must have carried it around for a while."

"Indeed." Zevran touches it without taking it from Alistair's hand, smiling faintly. "It meant much to me, once."

"Not anymore?"

"It means...something different now."

When he doesn't go on, Alistair makes an encouraging noise, afraid of the answer but wanting to hear it anyway.

Zevran takes the earring and turns it between his fingers, much the way Alistair did a moment ago, studying it as if it's new to him, too. As if he can see anything in the moonlight. Then he shrugs one shoulder and places the earring back on the shelf, aligning it too carefully for that casual shrug.

For a moment, Alistair thinks Zevran will try to distract him again, and so he's surprised when Zevran meets his eyes directly. "It meant much to me then because I had nothing else. Now?" He takes Alistair's hand and kisses the knuckles, smiling faintly. "Now it is simply a reminder of the past."

"Is that...good?"

"The past bought me the present, did it not?" He turns Alistair's hand over and kisses the palm, shielding his face behind Alistair's fingers for a long moment. "It bought me this, and it bought me you." One corner of his mouth turns up. A real smile, not the one he often hides behind. "Or perhaps it bought me _for_ you."

There are words Alistair has never said aloud, not even in the darkest part of the night when he knows Zevran is asleep. Words he's never even let his lips form in silence.

His hands are shaking as he cups Zevran's chin and steps close enough to kiss his forehead, his mouth, his cheeks. Close enough to breathe into his hair, "I love you."

Zevran doesn't attempt to make a joke, or suggest, smirking, how Alistair might prove it. Instead, he leans into the embrace, his body relaxed but his hand fisted tightly in the front of Alistair's shirt. After a moment, his lips move silently against the side of Alistair's neck. Words that are impossible to make out, but Alistair doesn't ask him to repeat them.

He doesn't need to.


End file.
